It’s been about
eight months since I started Iaido. I’ve managed to fix some of my
beginner mistakes only to discover that imperfections are like
cockroaches: you kill one and three come to the funeral. But for all
the amazing skills and people I’ve met in such a short time, I
don’t think I’m any closer to having an answer to my sister’s
question. I’m a realist. The odds of me being attacked by a
swordsman while sitting seiza with my katana in hand are about the
same as me being attacked by a monkey with an AK-47 (the key
difference being that I am not aware of any martial art designed to
protect you from the latter).

So why do I keep showing up every
Saturday to Iaido practice? I’ll admit that there are weeks when I
really don’t see where any of this is going. Days when I’m
staring at the piles of assignments to do and exams to study for and
thinking “I just don’t have any time to waste today”. Then,
when I’m getting ready to down a red bull and dig in for the
library long haul, it hits me like a slap across the face:

“I am learning
to fight with a samurai sword”

And it’s the sheer awesomeness of
that fact that gets me going again. Yes, Iaido teaches me
self-discipline and yes, I do feel a connection with a vast body of
tradition. But what it all boils down to, for me, is the fact that I
am living out the fantasy of every ten year old that has ever seen a
martial arts movie.

That’s not to say I don’t take it
seriously, far from it. It’s because I enjoy Iaido so much that I
feel compelled to get better at it. There’s that rush, that surging
sense of accomplishment that happens when you finally get the steps
of a kata down or you fix a long troubling imperfection. That’s as
much a part of the fun of Iaido as is the cool “woosh” noise your
sword makes.

My sister’s comment was not the last
remark I heard about the so-called “uselessness” of
swordsmanship. We’ve all seen “Raiders of the Lost Ark”; gun
vs. sword is a very short fight. But people like that are missing the
point, and not just about Iaido. There’s a deeper problem in our
culture, one that’s rooted around our obsession with efficiency.
Everything from music programs to simple acts of goofing off are
being deprecated because of the perceived time that they waste. What
these people fail to grasp is that there is a difference between
wasting time and spending it. All art is, to one degree
or another, an act of payment. We give up time in order to create
something new. Whether or not this thing is useful to anyone else is
irrelevant, the point is that you have chosen to create something
with your life that is uniquely your own.

That’s what keeps me going, in the
end. I’m not in it for the money, the fame, or the women. I’m not
even sure how one would get those with Iaido (although if anyone’s
figured it out, particularly the last one, feel free to enlighten
me). Swordsmanship is an art form. Like any other group of artists,
we all have our own justifications for being drawn towards it. If my
sister were to ask me again why I practice Iaido, I wouldn’t say
because it builds self-discipline (there are hundreds of things that
do that) or because it strengthens the legs (again, many
alternatives). I’d be honest with her and simply say: “because
it’s fun for me”. I don’t think I really need any reason beyond
that.

David Duncan is a 2008 recipient of
the
Haruna Bursary to the Guelph Spring iai and jo
seminar. He is a student at
Lakehead University and has been practiciing with Rai Un Kai since
September.